​Captain Hook’s Wife

Vanished on a Caribbean cruise.He told no one. Continued to plunderthe mini-bar and all-you-can-eat heavenlyhash. Folded the please take heroic measures paper

work into an origami piano to amusehis humorless children. Slept,guiltless, indigenous drums echoed, event-planners attended to his adultdiapers, his preservative-laden dreams. He stole cutlery. Mostly spoons. Polishedhis shoes with the same umber paste his fatherused before each magic show. Sawingwomen in half every Wednesday night, hypnotizingdignitaries who pirouetted like perfectlyperfect ballerinas trapped inside musicboxes. His own mother gonemissing since the family vacation to Paris, last seenin line to view the Mona Lisa. Unalarmed by thislatest disappearing act, he packed stolensouvenirs, flushed the piano, walked the exitplank, a child in each hand: his practical Wendy,(such a suffering optimist), his own in-bred Peter Pan.